SPOKEN LIVES: Two Filipinos in East New Britain

Wilson Turkai, As Told to Fred Lubang

PORT MORESBY, Papua New Guinea (MindaNews / 18 May) — We walk to school barefoot most days. If you could walk over gravel, sharp sticks, and hot surfaces just to reach school—you weren’t joking around. That was life at Kokopo Provincial High School in the 1980s in East New Britain in Papua New Guinea.

We had two teachers from the Philippines—Mr. Arcega and Mr. Bela. I don’t know how they ended up in East New Britain, but I remember them more vividly than some of our own.

Mr. Bela taught Practical Arts. That’s where we learned how to build folding wooden chairs—the kind you could carry easily around. He taught us to measure, to sand smooth, to make sure the hinges didn’t squeak. I can still fold one in my head. That was real learning—things you could touch with your hands.

Then there was Mr. Arcega. Now he was something else. He taught the commerce class. A chain-smoker, and when I say that, I mean it. He was smoking in class! You’d know he was coming not by his footsteps—but by his coughing. That cough! Full of phlegm and drama. We used to hide when we heard it. “Arcega i kam nau! (Arcega’s coming!)” someone would shout, and we’d vanish behind classrooms, stifling our laughs. He never caught us, I think he was too tired from coughing. 

But what really made us behave? It wasn’t just the cough. It was the Kung Fu. Every time we got rowdy, Mr. Arcega would stop, take a stance, and warn us, “I know Kung Fu!” Then he’d strike a pose—hands up, legs bent, face serious like Bruce Lee. And we believed him. Not one of us dared to test if he was bluffing.

You know what’s funny? I thought we were the only ones walking barefoot to school. But you tell me it was the same in some places in Mindanao in the 80s. That’s thousands of kilometers away, but somehow, the rhythm of life was the same—young people walking, dreaming, learning—barefoot but not without purpose.

We didn’t have much, but we had enough. And now, when I pass by Kokopo Provincial High School, I still remember the smell of sawdust in Mr. Bela’s class, the coughing (and Kung Fu) of Mr. Arcega, and the laughter we carried in our bare feet.

* Wilson Turkai is a quiet man from East New Britain, Papua New Guinea. He works as a driver for one of the country’s government agencies, navigating roads with the same steady patience he brings to conversation. He doesn’t say much at first—but over time, and many shared journeys, his stories begin to flow. Memories of his youth, reflections on change, and quiet observations about life all come through, not loudly, but with the kind of clarity that stays with you. It is in the quiet moments—on long drives, under trees, beside roadside markets or between grocery shelves—that Wilson’s voice carries the weight of lived history. This year 2025 marks the 50^th Anniversary of PNG’s Independence. 

(Fred Lubang, a listener from Surigao del Sur, gathers stories told to him in quiet corners, walks, over shared meals, and spends time in many communities. In this space, he shares the voices of others—memories, laughter, lessons— as they were told to him, across islands and generations. Fred is a PhD candidate at the Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies, in partnership with Paññāsāstra University of Cambodia, where he is developing a decoloniality framework for humanitarian disarmament. In 2022, Fred was awarded the Sean MacBride Peace Prize in recognition of his “unwavering work and commitment toward peace, disarmament, common security, and nonviolence. He is now in Papua New Guinea for a short visit).